Month: August 2018

Wednesday, August 22, 1:50-2:50. It was an incredible hour to be involved in. We drove to a nearby village, about ten minutes away from the orphanage. 5 of us in a jeep, two young women, one Guatemalan and one American (me!). 3 young men, 2 Guatemalans and an American. It is a village of 15 or so families, all working together for  the good of another. Off of the main road, we took about 3 tight streets to an open field of grass and cows. Through the field, I spotted a line of dirt, about a foot wide, that wound its way through the forest, up a steep hill. Yep, that was our path. About a quarter of a mile up, down, and flat on the path, we arrived to see a few wooden shacks. The two Guatemalan men got involved with maybe 20 kids who were in the village at the time. Us two ladies were seated outside of the central wooden shack (see picture above), tin roof shaking with the wind overhead, in a meeting with the main leaders, elders, and pastors of the area to assemble a team of helpers in the community. This was our first day there. It was mainly to start relationships with them and to see where we would be able to assist them. It was also my first day taking part outside of the orphanage with the ministry I will be starting to volunteer with, We Help Children. I was mostly there to learn, observe, listen, and be a part of the new relationship that was developing between this community and We Help Children ministry. Subjects of the meeting that were brought up included providing a center to help families, a new regulation of foods shared between families in need, and future plans of us getting involved, signing an act (that one of the leaders was handwriting on lined paper during the meeting, to be finished later on in the week), and training those families who’ve been relocated to this community due to the recent volcano disaster.

I almost felt as if I didn’t belong. The ideas that came from both the We Help Children’s leaders and the community elders brought me to thinking, pondering, and striving to seek for larger, greater things. The two pastors that were in attendance each shared a small sermon with us about the things God has provided to us. He doesn’t focus on the sin we do, but on the itty bitty good that we do in spite of it. He doesn’t condemn us, He rewards us with His blessings for continuing His work in the variety of ways we are capable, no matter how small. Working together to achieve more for each other, we closed with the verse, “How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity.” Psalm 133.

A few more ideas came up before we all closed out in prayer together. I thought it was going to be one of the Guatemalan women leading the 10 of us in prayer, until I heard one of pastors drop to her knees, stretch her arms out across the dusted path, and began almost shouting in prayer to God, thanking Him for being with us, blessing us, and continuing to provide for their community and our ministry together. I wasn’t too sure what to do, other than feel like I was somewhat lacking in my faith not being covered in dirt after the prayer was over. Scuffed up knees, soil down to her elbows, she reached in for a hug before we departed. I didn’t say much during this meeting but was intently following along with each comment that was shared. She noticed that. She saw a light in me that needed to be shared with those I meet, the I am beautiful, and wanted to remind me of that. I was with 4 others who were in a rush to get somewhere else on time, so I felt rushed myself. I didn’t take the time I should’ve with her to truly share how thankful I was to be able to join the group for the hour. She noticed we were rushing out, yet she took her time to speak life and blessings over me. I have survived my first outing with We Help Children, and I sure hope it isn’t my last.

I’ve been counting down the days until the next event, travel day, loved one’s birthday, or other exciting days ahead using an app on my phone. It gives me the day count, so I know how many months, weeks, or days I have left until the day has been reached. As much as I love being here with the kids, working alongside them, teaching them and guiding them, I smile a little bit with excitement whenever I open the app up, knowing it won’t be too long until I hop on another plane to visit family and friends or get to celebrate another birthday. I’ve been overlooking each day as its own, not seeing the present as a gift, but counting down the time to the next exciting day the future has in store.

This past week was a little different for me. I got to visit a few friends in Dallas, before making my way up to visit the extended family (aunt, uncle, grandparents, and cousins) for the long weekend at their lake house. The trip to Minnesota was bookended with visits to my grandparents, Thursday being lunch at their house and Monday visiting my grandfather who was sitting next to my grandmother in the hospital. Thursdays visit was much needed. 94 and 95 years old, both my grandparents looked to be healthy despite their increasing age. I was enjoying lunch with them, but I was also looking ahead to the coming days I’d get to spend with the other family members up at the lake.

Grandma was certainly feeling drowsy that afternoon. She was recently given a new anti-anxiety med that caused her to fall asleep at the table and not much later in her recliner. We woke her up and helped her pack her suitcase for the hospital, allowing her to get much needed rest under the care of nurses and hospice. While packing a hospital bag was not something I was looking forward to nor planning on doing over my short vacation, I was thankful for the time I got to share with her then as I was excited for the weekend of fun at the lake.

A weekend full of pontoon rides, yard games, board/card games, jigsaw puzzles, kayaking, swimming, laughing, and over-eating, it was quickly ended when we were notified that grandma’s health was quickly declining. We departed the lake house Monday morning at 4 am for our 3:30 flight (that was only a four-hour drive away), so we could get another visit with the grandparents.

Grandpa was sitting on her side. Although this week was meant for a time of rest for him as well, he looked very exhausted and emotional, keeping guard over his wife of 74 years. (I was almost looking forward to planning a visit around their 75 anniversary party that would come the following year.) Grandma was in bed, covered with sheets, showing only enough to see her mouth hanging open wide in a deep sleep. She was weak, had lost the ability to swallow, and was struggling to keep her eyes open for a short conversation. We took turns, holding her hand, loving on her, and giving our final words to her. I was so emotional, I could barely get any words out to her, not even knowing if she would be able to hear or comprehend them in my tear-filled voice. It was hard to see her in this state and to watch my grandfather, just as emotional as myself, not leave her side. It was difficult for all of us to be with her for an hour or so. My family left the room with not a dry eye. We took some time in the waiting room before leaving for the airport to share some of our memories of her, allowing us to turn our tears into smiles and laughter. We were all at the airport together, not expecting healing or recovery, but waiting for the news of her ascent to heaven.

The next morning I was up early, flying from Dallas, to Miami, back to Guatemala. While on my layover in Miami, I got a text saying she’s been struggling breathing. I started to board my plane, along with 150+ other passengers and their oversized carry-ons, waited for takeoff, and started watching a movie on my phone that I had downloaded for the flight. When we got high enough to receive Internet service, I check my phone as soon as I could. My phone started to get messages fast, receiving multiple texts from about an hour and a half ago that she had taken her final breath. I went back to my movie, trying my hardest to pretend as if nothing happened, as to not get emotional in front of many passengers and airline employees.

As I knew this news would be coming within the next day or two, I couldn’t hold in the tears. For the 3-hour flight, I was sobbing for about 1.5 hours, using the small square napkin I got with my airline cookies. The flight attendant taking drink orders saw the stream of tears down my cheeks, and quickly ran to grab me a stack of tissues after she gave me a hug. It was a quick, lonely, depressing trip through the Guatemalan airport, going through immigration, picking up my checked luggage, and meeting my uber driver outside the airport doors.

This uber driver was different. He owned the same model and color of car I recently sold in the states to be able to purchase one in Guatemala. The one my grandparents gifted me the same day I got my license. He handed me the cord to listen to music through my phone through the car’s radio. I was going to put my songs on shuffle, but instead decided to play my Spanish worship playlist, so both of could listen to the lyrics. I was soaking in each word, reminding myself of the promise the Lord has given us of eternal life after our earthly life has come to an end. I’m not sure where the driver’s heart lies, but I hope listening to the words gave him some hope as well, watching him turn up the volume with each song that played.

I made it back to the orphanage about 1:30 and hiked up the hill with my backpack, duffel bag, and suitcase just outside the orphanage walls. I didn’t want any kids seeing my tear-filled eyes, nor felt like being productive with any afternoon activity with anyone. I trapped myself inside, giving myself time to unpack, ponder, and let myself cry it out. It’s been a few days, and the tears are still coming.

As I still get excited thinking about upcoming birthdays, trips, and orphanage events, I have a new appreciation of time. Kids come and go in the orphanage. So do interns, short-term mission team members, fellow volunteers, and orphanage staff. Sometimes it’s harder than other times, depending on my relationship with them. I thought I would have enough experience of comings and goings not to experience these emotions again, but this one was different.

Today, I am filled with hope of eternity in heaven. I am still struggling with the loss of a dear family member, as is the rest of my family, but also rejoicing that she is no longer suffering. She is watching each of us from above, and is filled with joy when we remember the way she has impacted each of us who were blessed to know her. It isn’t easy losing part of the family, but I am grateful enough I got to share some of her last days with her, no matter how hard it was emotionally. The one thing I took back with me from my trip to Minnesota was a bracelet with “Ignite your 1440!” written on it, the number of minutes in a day. Here’s to living in the present and being thankful for each minute I get to share with each and every child, team member, fellow volunteer, family member, friend, and stranger I cross paths with.

http://www.czaplewskifuneralhomes.com/obituary/rachel-severance